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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611903">do you remember the times?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faded_dragonflys/pseuds/faded_dragonflys'>faded_dragonflys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bucky Barnes Remembers, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Memory Loss, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Not Beta Read, Pining, Reunions, buckynat - Freeform, winterwidow - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:08:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faded_dragonflys/pseuds/faded_dragonflys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha hasn’t had the best life. Being an elite assassin from an early age would do that to you. Now, however, her job is a little more on the heroic side, but a part of her life is still missing. Something she left behind when she deserted the Red Room.</p><p>So when she comes face to face with that part of her life once again when she deemed it impossible, she has absolutely no idea what to do.</p><p>Especially when <em>he</em> doesn’t remember <em>her</em>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov &amp; Avengers Team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>WinterWidow</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>do you remember the times?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22586506">I've Been So Into Your Mystery (Is It Because Of Our History?)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlygone/pseuds/ghostlygone">ghostlygone</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had the urge to write some WinterWidow so tada. I kinda blended some of Nat’s comic book past into the MCU storyline but I might have gotten things wrong. </p><p>Notes: CATWS happened. Nat wasn’t there cos she was on a mission and it was extremely classified. Ultron happened but Brutasha didn't. Steve and Sam went to look for Bucky after Ultron. Still classified. Here, I picture Nat with her CATWS hair except it’s quite a bit longer, but you do you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha woke up to a dark blue sky, a glimmer of light on the horizon. Gazing out of the window in her room in the compound, she allowed herself a moment of indulgence before forcing herself up, unclasping her handcuff as she did so. After changing, she picked up her favourite revolver from underneath her pillow and immediately retreated to the training room, trying to rid herself of her recent dream.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“Widows! Stop!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The seven girls immediately stopped dancing, coming to stand with perfect posture in a precisely straight line. They were the only ones left now. There had once been twenty-eight, but slowly, one by one, the weaker girls had been weeded out and removed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What had happened to them was no secret.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Madame B nodded, satisfied with their obedience. She stepped aside to introduce a man, a complete stranger.<br/>
“This is the Winter Soldier. He will be training you until graduation. He is one of the most elite assassins alive and you will do well to learn from him”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia narrowed her eyes for a moment, assessing the stranger. The Widows had gone through many, many years of intensive training now and were already some of the most coveted assassins in Russia. They had all mastered all types of martial arts, weaponry, academics and anything a spy would need years ago. What else could they learn? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She took in his appearance. The Soldier was quite tall and well built with straggly, shoulder-length brown hair. Was that… a metal arm? Interesting. She felt his dark gaze sweep over the girls, his face blank of any emotion. She was quite aware of her stature in comparison to the others.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia was the smallest girl here, despite being only a few months younger than all the rest. They were all approaching their eighteenth birthday. She was an outcast in their eyes, too young to be interesting, too silent and blank to be worth talking to. She didn’t mind. Getting attached was a Very Bad Idea anyway and she couldn’t afford to slip. She needed to be the best, and 'friends' would simply get in her way.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once the training started, it became apparent to her that the Soldier was an enigma. Natalia was usually very good at reading people, gauging their emotions, intents and danger level. Apart from the obvious fact that this individual was extremely dangerous, she couldn’t gain any other information from him.</em>
</p><p><em>She would have to be very, very careful. If she wasn’t, it could cost her her life.</em><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>Natasha strode through the empty space, heading towards the targeting range. She lined herself up in front of a target, settling into the familiar stance that <em>he</em> had taught her and let off a few rounds.</p><p>The bullets all hit the bullseye. She never missed.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“Shoot.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Soldier’s calm, emotionless voice reached her ears as one of the other girls, Yelena, lined herself up in front of a target with a revolver. The bullet landed ever so slightly to the left of the bullseye. The Soldier shook his head slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your subtlety is lacking and your technique is flawed. Who taught you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The girls remained silent. They had done this when they were eleven.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Watch carefully. This is how you should shoot.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He took his own revolver out of his holster, lining himself up in front of the target. He narrowed his eyes and shot several bullets towards the many targets spread around the room. The bangs echoed. All had hit the bullseyes, dead centre.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not for the first time, Natalia wondered where the Soldier had been trained. He was obviously not Russian, his facial features and certain minor mannerisms said as much, though he spoke with a flawless accent.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Natalia. You try.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He also had a gift for memorising many names in a remarkably short amount of time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia took out her revolver and stood in front of the target, mimicking his stance from earlier. Taking a deep breath, she shot a single bullet, hands steady and gaze unwavering.<br/>
</em></p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bang.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha moved on until her head was clear and her emotions under control. She checked her watch. It was six am. Rolling her eyes, she headed to the fight simulation set up by Tony. She adjusted the settings and walked into the room, dressed in leggings, a tank top and armed with only her revolver and two knives. It was time to release all her unwanted emotions on these fake opponents.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia faced off with the Soldier, the other girls watching intently. This was their thirty-fourth sparring session this month; everyone else had already had their turn. The Soldier was unbeatable. Natalia had yet to bring him down, like all the other girls.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Narrowing her eyes, she ran at him then promptly ducked and rolled under his counter-attack, coming up behind him. He whirled around and attempted to pin her. He succeeded for two seconds before she curled up, loosening his grip and rolled away. She flipped up, incorporating elements of her acrobatic-fight training into it. She dodged as he threw a series of attacks at her, twisting through the air as she did so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>She ducked in and out, occasionally landing a punch as he occasionally landed one on her. One for one. Slightly winded, she made a split-second decision before vaulting onto his back, putting so much force into the motion that her light frame toppled him over. Flipping him around, she sat on his chest, making sure to restrain him and putting extra security on that metal arm of his.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia’s arm pressed down on the Soldier’s throat. Increasing the pressure, she smirked slightly and whispered.<br/>
“Got you, soldier”<br/>
He relented and tapped out, looking rather pleased with her performance. She stood up, extremely satisfied, sweat covering her body and sticking her hair to her forehead. She turned around to see the other girls staring at her with newfound respect, while Madame B nodded approvingly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>“Well done, Natalia.”</em><br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha headed out of the room, sweaty from the exertion and immensely satisfied with the fight. She went back to her room to freshen up before heading to the common room, intent on finding some decent breakfast. Clint, Wanda and Vision were already in the common room, breakfast on the little kitchen island. She took some for herself before settling down next to Clint.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He nodded at her, mouth too full of scrambled eggs to speak. She rolled her eyes and ate, still slightly withdrawn after last night.<br/>
“How’s my little adopted sister doing today? Any mood swings I should be worried about?”<br/>
Clint asked after swallowing.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She scowled at him.<br/>
“Asshole.”<br/>
“Old Stevie doesn’t like those bad language words, child.”<br/>
She laughed lightly, a faint thread of guilt winding its way into her brain. She had never told anyone about her actual age or… abilities, she should say. The Red Room was smart. They faked her records, so even the ones kept by SHIELD were pretty much all wrong.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She was definitely much older than her supposed 32 years. </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>They had just finished breakfast and were lounging on the couches with Wanda and Vision when the elevator sounded, voices floating down the hallway. Clint looked up from his arrows, faintly interested.<br/>
“Oh, so Steve finally found his old fossil friend.”<br/>
“What?”<br/>
Natasha frowned at him, her knife twisting between her fingers.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Oh yeah, apparently the dude they’ve been chasing for way too long now is Steve’s friend from World War II. Bucky, I think they called him… stupid when you think about it.”<br/>
Natasha snorted.<br/>
“Another old man to tease. This should be fun.”<br/>
“Yeah, well, you might wanna be more careful around this one. Apparently, he was a HYDRA experiment.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>At this, Wanda snapped her head over. Her expression was very worried.<br/>
“Is he okay?”<br/>
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”<br/>
Her expression was troubled, red light flickering around her hands. Vision placed an arm around her and whispered soothingly to her, the red energy dissipating promptly.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>Disgusting,</em> Natasha thought, looking over at the pair fondly. She looked at Clint sharply.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“How did you get all the information? It was classified.”<br/>
“We all know Steve isn’t the best at keeping secrets.”<br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Everyone looked to the door as the footsteps grew louder. Steve stepped through first, smiling slightly at everyone in the room. Sam followed, expression disgruntled as he made his way to a beanbag and promptly fell into it.<br/>
“Never again.  Never, ever, ever again.”<br/>
A new voice came from behind Sam.<br/>
“It’s not my fault you’re slower than two 100-year-old men.”<br/>
The new person, Steve’s friend, came into the room, ice blue eyes assessing its occupants. His posture was determinedly relaxed, arms crossed; there was a defensive quality to it. </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha was only aware of his eyes, the very eyes that haunted her dreams and tore her apart when no one else was looking. It took all her training not to react, no matter how much she wanted to cry, to scream, to stand up and approach him. If Clint was aware of her suddenly tense form, he said nothing.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Only one thought ran through her mind.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>James.</em> </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She knew it though, from the second he met her outwardly cool gaze that he didn’t remember her. Of course, he wouldn’t. HYDRA was very thorough with their brainwashings. That strange vertigo she felt when they forced her to watch him scream as they brainwashed him was back. It was like her entire existence was splintering like glass, only to be smashed back together in seconds. A whirlwind of emotion threatened to spill over her and drown her.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You will watch him suffer, Natalia. Let this be a reminder to you; love is for children. There are no children here.”<br/>
James screamed, the sound tearing at her as she was forced to look, to see him forget everything that had happened. She could see him struggle to throw everything off, to run back to her but HYDRA was too much.<br/>
It was fruitless to even attempt to fight.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>“I’m sorry, James.”</em><br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She still couldn’t remove her eyes from the familiar figure in the doorway, not yet fully comprehending the situation.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Everyone, this is Bucky. He was with me in World War II.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not Bucky. James. The Winter Soldier.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Steve looked so happy to have his friend back, a beam threatening to split his face open. Any faint startings of thoughts about bringing her James back had completely vanished. Not that she would have done it in the first place. She was raised far too well for such sentimentality. </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The tension in the room was obvious. Steve coughed awkwardly and started introducing the rest of them.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“This is Clint, he’s an expert marksman and one of SHIELD’s favourite agents.”<br/>
Clint nodded curtly, grip tightening on his arrow.<br/>
“Nice to meet you,” he said.<br/>
James gave a wan smile.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“This is Vision… he’s an… android, you could say.”<br/>
Vision gave a robotic smile, his voice an exact match to JARVIS’.<br/>
“It is nice to meet you, sir.”<br/>
James’ face was curious as he took in Vision’s appearance. No doubt confused thoughts were running through his brain.<br/>
“Nice to meet you too.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Uh, so this is Wanda. She’s a very powerful teenager.”<br/>
The level of awkwardness was threatening to suffocate the room by now. Wanda gave James a genuine smile, presumably due to some degree of similar past experience.<br/>
“It is nice to meet you, Bucky.”<br/>
Her Sokovian accent was still there, too prominent. Natasha made a mental note to work on that the next time they trained together.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“And this is Natasha. She’s extremely scary and dangerous, even though she’s not enhanced. Don’t cross her.”<br/>
<em>Hah, not enhanced… if only you knew,</em> she thought wryly, momentarily distracting herself. She looked back at James, keeping her breathing under control.<br/>
<em>“Nice to meet you.”</em><br/>
He nodded, no trace of recognition on his face.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha’s insides felt empty, vertigo not yet gone. It was horrible, almost like the first time they’d been separated, like the nightmares that had plagued her for so long had come to reality. She needed to get out of there and get out soon. She stood up stiffly, forcing herself to meet Steve’s eyes.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I’m heading to the training room. Don’t come for me.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She hurried out of the room, avoiding everyone else’s gaze. She did not, in fact, head to the training as she said, and instead went to her room where she reached for a box under her bed. She opened it up slowly and looked at the pointe shoes she had not had the chance to dance in yet. She wasn’t even sure <em>why</em> she had gotten them in the first, only that they provided some kind of comfort, some reassurance of her past, no matter how tragic it was.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Sighing, she walked to the unused dance room right next to the training area. The inside was dusty and the mirror was not ideal. The shadows cast across the room reminded her of the darkness of the Red Room. She tugged off her shoes and slipped on the pointe shoes, the feeling familiar. Walking to the barre, she started some stretches to warm up and to break in the shoes.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Once she was satisfied, she called out very quietly.<br/>
“Hey FRIDAY? You there?”<br/>
“Yes, Ms Romanoff.”<br/>
“Could you put on some Tchaikovsky, please?”<br/>
“Of course, Ms Romanoff.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tchaikovsky’s haunting melodies floated throughout the room, the oboe’s controlled sound playing the famous Swan Lake motif. The gentle minor key of this particular piece of music reflected her sadness, her wish of a better life as she glided across the room. The brass instruments made their entry, and then the strings. The beautiful sound of violins mixed with the faint, delicate sound of a harp echoed in the room. The melody built up, the passion of the music clearly expressed by the musicians. She echoed that passion, losing herself in the dance.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>How ironic, that a dirty, tainted person like her could dance to this pure, beautiful music.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>The girls finished the dance, Madame B nodding approvingly. They filed out of the room, heading to the changerooms. As Natalia passed a dark, sheltered alcove, a hand reached out to pull her in. Not in the slightest bit alarmed, Natalia allowed herself to be pulled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You look beautiful out there.”<br/>
“Thank you, James.”<br/>
“Really though, I can tell why Madame favours you.”<br/>
“She does not allow room for sentimentality.”<br/>
“Really? You do not see what I see.”<br/>
“Maybe so. Though I do hear that your Russian is gaining an accent.”<br/>
“Maybe it’s because I'm regaining my past.”<br/>
“Really? Is that a good thing?”<br/>
“Maybe so. If my handlers knew this was happening, however, I will be wiped again.”<br/>
“Well, such are the ways of the Russians.”<br/>
“You are a Russian, dear.”<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
Quiet laughter.<br/>
“You should go now. They’ll get suspicious.”<br/>
“Until next time, milii moi.”<br/>
“Until next time, Natalia.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>She always did love it when he said her name.</em><br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha stood still, frozen, as the music faded away, her grief back and fresh like she had never suppressed it in the first place. She shook her head, packed up and quietly left the room.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It looked like she had never been there.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>~~~~~~~~~~</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>In the common room, the rest of the Avengers lounged around. Clint was worried for his best friend. He had never, in all his years, seen her have such a reaction to a single person. He leaned forward and stared at the large, flat-screen tv.<br/>
“Hey FRIDAY? Where’s Nat?”<br/>
“Ms Romanoff is currently in the room next to the training areas.”<br/>
He frowned. What was she doing there?<br/>
“Can you pull up a video of her?”<br/>
“Yes, Mr Barton.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The tv lit up and showed the dusty, previously unoccupied room. A lone figure danced inside, movements lithe and graceful as faint beams of light pierced through the blinds covering the windows. He had never known that she could dance. Slowly, one by one, the room’s other occupants stopped doing whatever they were doing to look at the tv and see the former assassin dance with the skill and grace of a prima ballerina at the Royal Academy of Ballet.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I never knew she could dance,” Steve said with faint awe.<br/>
“Somehow, I’m even more scared of her now. What else can she do?” Sam asked with a shudder. Wanda was entranced, her expression enthralled as she watched the careful, precise movements.<br/>
“I guess she learnt that in the Red Room. She never said much about it,” Clint replied, shrugging.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Vision was largely unbothered by this new discovery, presumably not caring for such trivialities of human nature. However, the new arrival, Bucky, or the ‘Winter Soldier’, had a strange look on his face, like he was struggling with something. </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“FRIDAY, please turn the live feed off.”<br/>
“Ok, Mr Barton.”<br/>
“Thanks.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The rest went back to their previous chatter while Clint leant back, deep in thought as the last image of Natasha, her face totally expressionless, burned in his mind.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>What was his friend hiding?</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>~~~~~~~~~~</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Natasha spent the next few days mostly in the training area or in her room. She did not wish for human interaction, so human interaction ceased to find her. She knew it made it worse, running away from her problems, but that was what the Red Room had hammered into her head.<br/>
<em>If you can kill your problem, do it. If you can’t, run away and save yourself.</em></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Right now, she was being a coward and hiding in her room, knowing full well that Ja- no, Barnes, and most of the team were congregating in the training area. She hadn’t stuck around to see the rest of the team’s reactions to Barnes' arrival.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She totally didn’t ask FRIDAY to shock her Widow Bites (which she always kept around, for reasons) whenever he came near.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Her room wasn’t that bad of a place to hide in after all. It had all she needed; a bed, her weapons, clothes, a bathroom… Everything except for food. If Steve hadn’t insisted on ‘team dinners’ <em>every freakin night</em>, she would be set to be a hermit for the rest of her life. <em>Stupid family man.</em></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Huffing, she pulled a book off her shelf and flipped through it, snuggling under her duvets with her handcuff clasped around her wrist. The comforting feel of the metal grounded her, providing a semblance of continuity, connecting her past, present and future. She needed this relaxation, needed this distraction from the shit that was going on in her head.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She was just getting into the book when there was a knock at her door. She groaned and put the book down, effortlessly unclasping the handcuff and hiding it away.<br/>
“Go away, Clint.”<br/>
“Nuh-uh. Let me in, Nat.”<br/>
“No.”<br/>
“You sound like a teenager.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>A pause.<br/>
“Fine.”<br/>
Grumbling, she stood up and unlocked the door, expression flat and annoyed. Clint’s face was serious, no trace of his usual, childish demeanour. She blocked the entrance to the room, mirroring his stance.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“We need to talk.”<br/>
“No, we do not need to talk. I’m not twelve, Clint.”<br/>
“We do need to talk if you’re just hiding in your room like this.”<br/>
“I’m not hiding. I still go out.”<br/>
“Nat, you never do this.”<br/>
“You sure about that?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>They both glared at each other. Natasha mentally sighed; he always knew when she was lying. It was one of the more endearing, yet extremely inconvenient qualities about him.<br/>
“Sometimes, I forget you’re also a spy.”<br/>
“Let me in, Nat.”<br/>
“If I don’t?”<br/>
“I’ll tell Laura.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Another pause.<br/>
“Fine. Come in, but make it quick.”<br/>
“Always works, always works.”<br/>
Clint stepped into the room, surveying its contents. It was always extremely neat and ordered, weapons carefully stashed everywhere and triggers put in place.<br/>
“I feel like I’m stepping onto a minefield.”<br/>
“You’re not too wrong about that.”<br/>
“Good to know.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha rolled her eyes and jumped back onto her bed, raising her eyebrow at him.<br/>
“So what was so important that you had to barge in?”<br/>
“Why are you hiding?”<br/>
“I’m not.”<br/>
“Don’t bullshit me, Nat, I can tell.”<br/>
She took a deep breath and a mask of indifference settled over her face. She let the training from the Red Room take over and smiled sweetly at Clint.<br/>
“There’s nothing wrong. I just want some time to myself.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He still didn’t look convinced.<br/>
“I mean it, Clint, there’s nothing wrong.”<br/>
He was about to protest when she slid her knife out from an alcove next to her bed. Cleaning her fingernails, she spoke without looking at him.<br/>
“Can I go back to reading now?”<br/>
Resigned, he nodded, heading towards the door.<br/>
“Fine, but if you need to talk about anything, just ask FRIDAY, okay?”<br/>
“Sure.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He left without another word.<br/>
Natasha fell back into her bed and piled all her blankets on top of her, drowning in her sorrows.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She never cried though. She just couldn’t.<br/>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia was very young, maybe only nine when she was taken in by the Red Room. From the first training session, pain was ever-present. Instinctively, Natalia knew that if she cried, the consequences would be harsh. She was only seven at the time though, and her self control was severely lacking. One day, in ballet, she fractured her foot. The pain was intense and she couldn’t help a few tears from escaping. Madame B walked over and immediately backhanded her, hard. </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t you ever cry again. Tears are for the weak. Do you understand me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, Madame,” she forced out, steadying her breathing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>She never cried again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>~~~~~~~~~~</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>The brief ‘talk’ with Natasha basically confirmed his worries. Clint now knew that there was something very wrong with the ex-assassin. She rarely ever pulled the Black Widow face on him while not on a mission. Others maybe, but not <em>him</em>. He needed to figure out what exactly was the problem, because yes, the team was great, but Natasha was his best friend.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He had some digging to do, and he had to dig deep. That wouldn’t be a problem though.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He was one of SHIELD’s best after all.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>~~~~~~~~~~</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Natasha couldn’t afford more suspicion from the rest of her teammates, so she rejoined them without raising any red flags. She managed to remain calm around Barnes while acting like she always had around the others. Tony’s assholery, Pepper’s quiet exasperation and Clint’s pranks provided a good distraction for the others, so Natasha was left in peace.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It was good like this. If she was pushed, she would snap very easily. Pitiful, really, how the Red Room’s best agent could be upset by a single person. They would’ve been ashamed.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha had answers on autopilot, answering without much thought, so when the team wanted to do some sparring matches and asked her whether she wanted to join, her answer slipped past her lips without thinking.<br/>
“Sure.”<br/>
“Actually?” Clint looked surprised.<br/>
“Well, she said yes, so she’s going,” Tony shrugged, already heading back to his lab.<br/>
Natasha openly glared at him. He merely saluted her as he went out the door, saying.<br/>
“I’ll be watching from the lab.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha didn’t have the energy or will to argue, so she allowed herself to be brought along. Clint was still watching her, his face still stuck in that infuriatingly worried expression. She made a face at him and ducked into the room, wanting to get this over with. Steve called Sam and Rhodey up, eager to see how the two suits would work against each other. Natasha barely paid attention, doing mild stretches on the sideline and lost in her own thoughts. They must have gone through about five rounds before Tony’s voice came over the speakers.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I, for one, want to see how our two ex-Soviet assassins would do against each other.”<br/>
<em>That</em> got her attention.<br/>
She froze slightly, blood running cold. Barnes’ face was blank and unreadable. Steve looked worriedly between the two of them.<br/>
“You sure that’s ok?”<br/>
Natasha nodded, face now also carefully blank. She would never back down from a challenge like this.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The two stepped out onto the mats and got ready, facing each other. Natasha ignored how familiar this was, how reassuringly natural it felt to be sparring with him again.<br/>
“Don’t hold back,” she said, a level gaze on him. He nodded brusquely, tensing his metal arm.<br/>
“Ok, three, two one, go!” Tony shouted enthusiastically. Natasha shot a dry look at the camera before slipping into her Black Widow persona. The two circled each other, coiled as tight as a bowstring. </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Suddenly, Barnes darted forward, feinting to one side and preparing for the complicated twist that would follow. Natasha smiled internally. He had always loved this move, hence, she knew exactly what to do. She ducked and rolled, anticipating his next move. The two soon engaged in a deadly dance, reminiscent of the days where they sparred on a daily basis. She knew him, his moves, his past and he seemed to instinctively know hers too. She was vaguely aware of the rest of the team’s shocked expressions, but her focus was solely on him and him alone.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>As they fought, a frown appeared on his forehead. It deepened as they continued, leaping around each other. Suddenly, they sprang away from each other with absolute synchronicity. Instantly, Natasha was no longer Natasha and the room was not the Avenger’s training area. She was Natalia again, in the Red Room, sparring against her teacher.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia faced off with the Soldier, everyone else watching intently.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Narrowing her eyes, she ran at him then promptly ducked and rolled under his counter-attack, coming up behind him. He whirled around and attempted to pin her. He succeeded for two seconds before she curled up, loosening his grip and rolled away. She flipped up, incorporating elements of her acrobatic-fight training into it. She dodged as he threw a series of attacks at her, twisting through the air as she did so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>She ducked in and out, occasionally landing a punch as he occasionally landed one on her. Slightly winded, she made a split-second decision before vaulting onto his back, putting so much force into the moment that her light frame toppled him over. Flipping him around, she sat on his chest, making sure to restrain him and putting extra security on that metal arm of his.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Natalia’s arm pressed down on the Soldier’s throat. Increasing the pressure, she smirked slightly and whispered.<br/>
“Понял тебя, солдат”<br/>
(Got you, soldier)</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha snapped out of her memory, gazing down at Barnes. She was fully aware of the total silence in the room now. Not even Tony made a sound.<br/>
“Wha-?” Sam was absolutely dumbfounded. Who would’ve guessed that she would have brought down HYDRA’s favourite weapon? Not them, certainly. She avoided everyone’s gaze and got off Barnes. His expression was one of slight confusion and curiosity, mixed with a bit of… amusement?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Natasha helped him up and nodded briefly before walking away, calling out over her shoulder as she did so.<br/>
“Nice job, Barnes.”<br/>
She really needed a hot shower to clear her head.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“As I recall, you used to call me James, Natalia. What happened to that?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She completely froze, not daring to even try to believe it. She took several deep breaths, trying to regain control of herself before turning around. Barnes was standing now, staring her with recognition and relief in his eyes. She took a few steps towards him, still not fully believing.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“вы...?<br/>
(Do you…?)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She left the question hanging, pure, raw emotion rendering her speechless.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Я знаю, Natalia, все, и ты была единственной хорошей вещью во всем этом.”<br/>
(I do, Natalia, everything, and you were the one good thing in it all.)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Когда?”<br/>
(When?)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He gave her a crooked smile.<br/>
“Именно тогда, маленькая балерина.”<br/>
(Just then, little ballerina.)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She couldn’t help it anymore. She walked towards him, the others looking on tensely. Perhaps they thought she would attack him. It did seem like something she would do.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He merely smiled slightly and opened his mismatched arms, encasing her in them when she got close enough. She relaxed into him, head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rested his chin on it, whispering as he did so.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Мне было интересно, почему вы показались мне знакомым.”<br/>
(I was wondering why you seemed familiar.)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>She let out a shaky laugh, feeling very close to tears now,<em> which shouldn’t be happening </em>because the Red Room had broken her of that. For now, the two just enjoyed each other’s presence, remembering those happy memories in those dark times. Logically, Natasha knew that they had both changed and would never be the same again.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Мы оба изменились, дорогая. Мы уже не те, что были тогда,” Natasha said.<br/>
(We've both changed, dear. We aren't the same as back then.)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Я знаю. Мне кажется, так ты мне больше нравишься.”<br/>
(I know. I think I like you better this way.)</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Well, change isn’t necessarily a bad thing after all.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>A cough was heard from the speakers; evidently, Tony was the soonest to recover.<br/>
“So, does anyone want to explain to me <em>what just happened,</em> ‘cause I sure as hell don’t know.”<br/>
The two Soviet ex-assassins turned to look at their audience; out of all of them, only Clint didn’t look totally shocked. In fact, his face had the vague look of someone who was figuring out a math problem and only just starting to understand how to complete it.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>James kept an arm around Natasha’s shoulders, the position natural and familiar to the both of them. Natasha internally laughed as she thought how this would look to the others; two seemingly hostile ex-assassins who had never so much as even <em>looked</em> at each other suddenly having a heart to heart in a completely different language.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Y’all have some serious explaining to do,” Sam said, the bewildered look still on his face.<br/>
“You want the short version or the extended edition?” Natasha asked drily. “‘Cause the long one’s about sixty years long, give or take.”<br/>
She looked to James for confirmation. He shrugged.<br/>
“Sounds about right.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve was visibly upset. Natasha smiled gently.<br/>
“I thought he was dead too.”<br/>
Clint was staring at them with newfound understanding in his eyes. He caught Natasha’s gaze and gave her a look.<br/>
<em>We’re gonna talk about this later,</em> it said. She threw an apologetic look back.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“We’ll tell you everything later,” James promised.<br/>
“Everything?” Steve asked.<br/>
James looked to Natasha, smiling softly. They both looked to the whole team. Their family, if they did this right.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Everything,” Natasha nodded.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!<br/>I feel like this was somewhat rushed, but I'm still trying the ropes at this whole fanfiction thing so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯<br/>Kudos, comments and feedback will be greatly appreciated :)</p><p>(I neither dance ballet nor speak Russian. Huge respect to those who do.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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